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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27375904">Kitten Cave</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Depressed_Ferret/pseuds/Depressed_Ferret'>Depressed_Ferret</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>She-Ra 40,000 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018), Warhammer 40.000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Homeless Catra, Orphan - Freeform, Tiny Catra - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:55:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27375904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Depressed_Ferret/pseuds/Depressed_Ferret</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into the life of a homeless Cat living in the Underhive, and just how depressing it can be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>She-Ra 40,000 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994575</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Kitten Cave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> “Fucking mongrel!” </em> roared a masculine voice, raw and angry, <em> “Thieving little shit!” </em>she yelped as a glass bottle smashed against the alley wall, mere inches from her head.  In response she promptly stuck out her scratchy tongue before bolting from the vendor, kicking her small little legs as fast as they could take her.</p><p> </p><p>Admittedly, it wasn’t that fast, <em> but! </em>   She <em> was </em> tiny!</p><p> </p><p>Which came in real handy when she needed to squeeze between two plasteel crates, narrowly reaching freedom before she could be grabbed and- <em> most likely </em> -get beat within an inch of her life.</p><p> </p><p>Catra wasn’t really a fan of getting beat.  <em> Not </em> very fun, if she were honest.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>What’s an urchin to do?  Sit around like a good little Hiver and starve to death?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Nah! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Stealing was much more fun!  So much easier to get food that way-</p><p> </p><p><em> Unless </em> she stole from a Ganger, then she might get shot at.  Yet another thing Catra did <em> not </em> like about living in the underhive!</p><p> </p><p>Which, admittedly, wasn’t exactly a fun place to live.  Sure, there were plenty of things to climb; delicious rodents she could cut with her claws; and plenty of shiny things to catch her tiny eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Also food to steal.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Stolen food is best food. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>So Catra continued to run, her clawed feet click-clacking against the steel and cobbled streets of <em> The Dreggs, </em> a section of the underhive squared off by a powerful gang.  The thick, dark smog making everything either rust, rot or mould made it and the people living there live short, unhealthy lives.  Many who lived too close to where the smog fell from the upper city had their skin turn an unnatural oily black, their hair to fall out and their eyes to slowly melt from their skull.</p><p> </p><p>Catra avoided these areas like the plague they were.</p><p> </p><p>She was small, but not small enough to miss the dangers of going near such a place.</p><p> </p><p>So instead, Catra wound and weaved her way through the busy crowd- <em> making extra sure her tail wasn’t trampled </em> -before turning off the main street and into a narrow alley not many could enter.</p><p> </p><p><em> Besides her, anyway </em>.</p><p> </p><p>The rough, rusty walls ruffled Catra’s fur in an uncomfortable way as she shimmied through; her pointed ears perked and swiveling, listening intently for any pursuers or unwelcome squatters looking to ambush the small child.</p><p> </p><p>There was, of course, <em> no </em> honor amongst thieves in the underhive.</p><p> </p><p>So she didn’t exit the alley once she reached the end, instead opting to slow her breathing, close her eyes, and <em> listen. </em></p><p> </p><p>Catra could hear the faint, muffled cacophony of footsteps behind her.</p><p> </p><p>The distant sounds of gunfire, lasfire, and explosions expected of gang warfare.</p><p> </p><p>The pitter patter of collected smog-water dripping from the pipes above.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling satisfied, Catra nodded to herself, opening her eyes and finally shimmying her way out of the cramped alley, and into a small, metal cave system.  The walls, ancient and rusted beyond repair, are littered with centuries- <em> if not millennia </em>-of graffiti, with the old being painted over top by the newer.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Catra doesn’t know who “Leman” is, but apparently he’s a “Furry Fuck.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> …..Whatever that means. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Catra casually walks over to a rotting, wooden box, lifting up she grabbed the old, shattered skull from its hiding spot.  Then she padded over to where- <em> relatively </em> -fresh water drips down from an ancient pipe, placing the skull below it so she can collect the water.  </p><p> </p><p>Mrs.Skully was a fine mug, and a very reliable friend!  If she weren’t a skull, that is.</p><p> </p><p>……..</p><p> </p><p>Maybe the water wasn’t as fresh as she thought…..</p><p> </p><p>Again she shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>“Been drinking it this long,” she said, voice small and scratchy, “Might as well.”</p><p> </p><p>So Catra decided to set up her little cubby, walking over to a metal crate and shoving it aside, revealing a tiny little alcove.  Inside was a small roll of cloth she used as a sleeping bag, a box she hid her treasures in, and a small statue she stole from a novitiate.</p><p> </p><p>Catra’s most <em> prized </em> treasure.</p><p> </p><p>It was tiny, only a little bigger than both her palms put together.  It was made of metal, painted in beautifully realistic colors, with flecks of paint missing and revealing the bare white metal beneath.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Catra cried when the paint first chipped off due to the conditions of her cubby. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The statue was of a man in resplendent armor of the most purest gold, with tan skin and flowing ebon locks.  In his hands was a massive flaming sword.</p><p> </p><p>Catra knew who this man was.  It was the only memory she had of her mother: the day she taught Catra about their Lord.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The Emperor. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Catra scooted over to her box, and pulled out a small, soft cloth she used exclusively for wiping the moisture off of the <em> Emperor, </em> trying her best to keep Him in proper condition.</p><p> </p><p>When her tummy starts to rumble, Catra briefly crawls outside to retrieve Mrs.Skully; and then to carefully slide the box back into place, hiding her little cubby from any looters or squatters.</p><p> </p><p>Or Ratties.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You have to be careful of Ratties, they’ll drag you to the Under Empire….. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Poor Leri.  Catra liked Leri.  She was <em> nice. </em>  But then she got ate by the Ratties.</p><p> </p><p>Catra decided she’ll give a quick prayer to the Emperor asking to protect Leri.</p><p> </p><p>Kneeling in front of the small statuette, Catra bowed her head and closed her eyes, making the symbol of the Aquilla with her hands.  “O’ Emperor, thank you for this good day, and thank you for the food.  I thank you for vendors that are easy to steal from, and that the Arbites haven’t broke my head yet.” she paused to take a breath, “Please look after Leri.  She was nice, and had very pretty eyes.  She also gives good hugs.”</p><p> </p><p>Concluding her prayer, Catra happily ate her meal: a scrap of meat that barely fit her tiny palm, and two sips of water from Mrs.Skully.</p><p> </p><p>Her mouth watered just at the sight of the tiny raw scrap, and she gave a soft mew when she tasted the tough, bitter cut.  Catra honestly couldn’t believe how lucky she was.  A whole scrap!  It was so much that it almost made her belly hurt, if not for the water from Mrs.Skully to help wash it down.</p><p> </p><p>The Emperor was truly looking out for her.</p><p> </p><p>Catra smiled, even as fatigue set in from such a large meal.  So she rolled herself up in her bag, and gave a silent <em> thank you </em> to her Lord.</p><p> </p><p>Today was a good day.</p>
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